


Eclipse

by Earial13



Category: Tangled (2010), Tangled: The Series (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Heavy Angst, Like there's A LOT of angst, MoonPowers!Varian, Moonflower theory, define "major" character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 20:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12801306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Earial13/pseuds/Earial13
Summary: Varian fights to save Quirin from the crystal, take revenge on those who've wronged him, and prove himself a man. A mysterious old woman appears, claiming to know how to help....





	Eclipse

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic was inspired by the MoonPowers!Varian theory and amazing fanart created by @snowprincess-artist on tumblr. The incantation lyrics were written by @tangledbea on tumblr, check out both of their blogs, they're awesome!  
> This was originally meant to be a really short oneshot, but....kinda got away from me.
> 
> WARNING: Buckle on your seat belts, kiddos, cause there be lots o' angst a'brewing! Also, this unbeta-ed, so forgive any typos/mistakes 
> 
> Enjoy/break your hearts!

#### Waxing

The sunrise was cool and bright that morning, the faint beams gradually melting away the last remnants of snow that remained from the previous night’s historic and magical blizzard. The birds were chirruping again in the trees, and the people of Old Corona were rising, ready for the day’s labor.

Varian, however, was oblivious to any of these mundane happenings. The lamp above his work space still bravely burned in the growing daylight, evidence of the sleepless night spent in obsessive experimentation. Dark circles rimmed his eyes underneath his goggles, but his face was set in stone.

“Okay, this time….it’ll work.” He muttered to himself, mixing up a blue compound in a flask. “It _has_ to work.” He carefully dropped a tiny portion of the liquid onto the yellow crystal that had encased his father. Smoke rose from the spot the solution had touched, causing Varian to cough extensively and wipe down his fogged-up lenses. But when the smoke cleared, the yellow substance was unchanged. Just like the last eighty-six attempts.

He groaned, suppressing a frustrated scream as he slammed his fist on the wooden table in vexation. The crystal was unresponsive to any solution he concocted, no matter how potent.

But...the blacks rocks had been responsive to one person.

Rapunzel.

Varian gritted his teeth at the thought of the blond-haired princess. He needed her. As much as he hated to admit it, the mysterious rocks and the princess were connected, and if he ever wanted to set Quirin free, he would need Rapunzel’s help. But how? She had broken her promise to him; he was not about to trust her again so quickly.

Varian gazed up at his frozen father, memorizing the strong lines of his brow and face that had both frightened and comforted him throughout his childhood. Rapunzel had to pay for what she’d done, she needed to see what harm her broken promises had caused.

A sharp knocking drew Varian from his thoughts. _Neighbors._ He grumbled, pointedly ignoring the sound and bending over his work again. When the knocking persisted, he sighed in resignation and stalked over to the door, jerking it open without regard to propriety.  
_“What?”_ He ground out, but stopped when he saw his unexpected visitor. Bent and stooped with age, the old women looked like a puff of wind could blow her over. Ancient wrinkles creased her face, and her grey hair was wild and curly. What struck Varian most was her eyes; green and vibrant, they were not the eyes of a normal old hag. Something stirred in their depths, and Varian had an uncanny feeling that he’d met this old women before. The hair on the back of his neck rose as his stomach growled uncomfortably.

“Oh, um, can I...help you?”

“Are you Varian?” The old woman responded, eyeing him curiously. She seemed unimpressed.

“Yes, why?”

“I know how to fix your little ‘problem’,” She intoned enigmatically. “Meet me at the village border tonight at moonrise.”

Varian blinked in dazed surprise. “Excuse me?”

But the woman was gone.

“Wait, _what?_ Come back! What did you mean?” Varian called, running outside and searching for the mysterious hag. She was nowhere in sight. _How does she know about Dad?_

He dug the palms of his hands into his eyes. “Come on, Varian, you’re imagining things. It was just a weird dream.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead where his goggles pressed into the skin. “I must have forgotten to wear the respirator on test eighty-four.” He muttered, wearily trudging back inside and shutting the door with finality.

The day crept on, as did the experiments, yet Varian couldn’t forget the dream lady’s ominous invitation.

Dusk had began to fall, and the first stars peeped out of their inky covers. Varian drummed his fingers on the wooden table, lips pursed in thought as experiment one hundred and sixteen boiled on the burner next to him. “I’m going crazy,” He remarked to Ruddiger, who had spent the day cowering underneath the furniture. “But if there’s even a chance….I have to take it.” With that, he switched off the burner, and headed for the edge of the village, wondering all the way what he was getting himself into.

#### Full

There was still a chill in the air, and Varian shivered, belatedly wishing he’d brought his cloak along. The edge of town was silent, as per usual, and he was just about ready to return when he saw the old lady from before, in a spot that had definitely been empty but seconds previously.

“You’re not a dream then?” He asked by way of introduction, unsure if he wanted the interaction to be real or imagined.

The old hag chortled, beckoning him to follow her as she headed into the woods. “That depends on your definition of reality.” She smirked. “They call me Lamia.”

“Right. So, what did you mean when you said you could ‘fix my problem’?” Varian inquired, ducking branches and dodging bushes to keep up with her. For someone so ancient looking, she moved remarkably fast.

“You will see, and then I will show you true power.” She pushed aside a branch to reveal a rune stone that appeared to be as ancient as she.

Varian’s brows knitted. This wasn’t what he had expected. He approached the stone cautiously, examining it with an air of curiosity. “What is this? It looks older than Corona itself.”

“It is older than Corona.” The witch (he was fairly certain at this point that’s what she was) seemed mildly exasperated at his obvious comments. “Now, look!” She pointed to an inscription carved into the rock’s face.  
Varian squinted, endeavoring to make out the time-weathered writing as he began to read aloud.

 _Be warned! Lonely wanderer,_  
_For as a bonfire needs fuel,_  
_To warm the resting slumberer,_  
_So great power requires sacrifice_  
_To feed the moon’s plunderer._

He glanced up in puzzlement at the witch, who pointed back down at the rune stone in silence. He noticed two stanzas below the first, inscribed in smaller lettering, almost completely obliterated.

_Sun and Moon, night and day  
When one falls, the other decays._

_For the balance to be complete  
One of two death must meet._

That was it? This was why he’d been dragged into the woods in the middle of the night? “Okay, lady,” Varian sighed in disappointment, rising to his feet and brushing himself off. “This late-night excursion to read old ditties on rocks is great and all, but I have more important things to do.”

“Saving Quirin, I know.” She nodded, shadowing the alchemist as he headed back to the village. “But there is so much more about yourself that you don’t know yet.”

Varian had a quick retort poised on his tongue when he was distracted by the sound of a low groan and a weak _‘help me’._

Diverting his path to follow the sound, he stopped short at the sight of a local villager, Colvin by name, who was crouched next to patch of the black rocks. Varian’s eyes widened as he saw a small black spike protruding from Colvin’s abdomen, and he fought down the desire to be sick. Dark blotches stained the man’s shirt, and his head snapped up at their approach.

“Varian…” Colvin said horsely, voice flooding with relief. “The rocks, they sprouted up, I…” He winced in pain, clutching his side.

“I know, Colvin.” Varian responded grimly, swallowing his queasiness. “We’re going to get you help.” The rocks had been proving to be a greater problem every day, but this was the first time someone had been this gravely injured.

In what seemed to take a painfully long time, Varian and the old woman managed to lift Colvin off the rocks, improvise a makeshift bandage and sling his arm around Varian’s shoulders.

“I know what will help.” The witch commented, heading in the direction Varian assumed the village lay. It was hard to focus with the weight of a grown man leaning against him. “Follow me.”

Eventually, the old woman paused in a slight clearing, and Varian could see a small pond between the parted willow rushes. The full moon reflected off the water, illuminating the little area. He tugged on Colvin’s arm that remained wrapped around his shoulder, watching in worry as the deep red stain bloomed on the man’s shirt. He was about to ask why they’d stopped, when the hag-Lamia-he remembered, opened her mouth and suddenly started to sing.

 _“Flower, burn and shine_  
_make your power mine_  
_time resume its course_  
_let age and pain combine….”_

“Uh, that doesn’t sound helpful.” Varian commented, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach growing with every word the old woman sang. Something wasn’t right, this whole situation wasn’t right. He glanced down at Colvin’s pale face, adjusting the weight of the large man leaning on his shoulder. They didn’t have much time to get help for Colvin, but every step felt heavier as the man’s breathing grew more labored. Lamia didn’t hear him, or paid him no heed as she continued her song.

 _“...Harm what has been healed,_  
_fates redo what’s thine, lose the saved once more,_  
_let age and pain combine_  
_age and pain combine…”_

Varian was just about ready to protest they stop this whole weird “I’ll-show-you-power” thing, when he felt the weight on his shoulder dramatically lessen. Looking down, he dropped Colvin and nearly screamed. Or at least, what once had been Colvin. It was like watching fifty years of aging happen in five seconds. Grey hair sprouted from Colvin’s head, his eyes shrunk in, and thousands of wrinkles shot through his skin, grotesquely contorting the man’s body.

“Varian…” Colvin croaked, reaching his hand out in desperation as some invisible force ate away at his features.

Varian went to take the man's outstretched hand, but when he grasped it, only bone remained. This time Varian did scream, dropping the bones of Colvin with a clatter, watching in horror as even the bones turned to glowing dust. The wind picked up and blew the glowing ashes right at Varian’s face. A strange feeling overcame him in the midst of the chaos, a feeling of strength, exhilaration, like he could run a marathon and not break a sweat. The sensation passed, and Varian coughed, using his hair to shield himself from the gruesome ashes, when a shining gleam caught the corner of his eye.

His hair. It was…

“Glowing? Wha- What’s going on?” He stammered, wheeling around to confront the old lady, who stood by complacently. “Colvin, w-what happened to him? What did you do?!” His voice rose, in fear or anger he didn’t know. Varian was used to understanding everything he set his mind to understanding, and now he understood absolutely nothing.

Lamia’s wrinkled lips curved in a slow smile. “You’ve discovered your power.” She stated simply, gesturing at the nearby pond. “See for yourself.”

Varian approached the pond in trepidation, unsure of what he wanted to see, and even more afraid of what he would see. The face that looked back up at him from the pond’s still waters was not his own. Blazing blue hair that glowed and shone like moonlight, luminescent freckles spattered across his nose, and his eyes… They burned with a white flame that both intrigued and terrified him.

“What’ve you done to me?” He choked out, raking hands through his ridiculously vibrantly-colored hair. Even as he stared at his reflection, the ghostly blue glow dimmed, leaving a Varian that seemed somehow paler and incomplete.

“I’ve done nothing.” She replied, unfazed by the dramatic occurrences around her. “I only opened your mind to who you really are...and what you’re capable of.”

Varian sucked in a breath, shakily rising to his feet and turning to meet Lamia’s bright green eyes.

“And just who am I?” He demanded, clenching his fists to hide the violent tremors coursing through his body. “Are you telling me _I_ did _that?”_ He motioned to where Colvin had existed but moments ago, and at Lamia’s knowing look, panic started to claw at Varian’s throat. He _couldn’t_ have been responsible, the idea was laughable, but...he also couldn’t explain what had happened.

“You know the tale of Princess Rapunzel’s birth, do you not?” The witch asked, walking over to boulder and taking a seat. Varian gaped at her, thrown by the seemingly abrupt change of subject.

“Yes, I...who doesn’t? Now what does that have to do with me?”

“Everything.” Came the cryptic answer. “The golden flower that saved the Queen’s life gave Rapunzel her famed magical healing powers, powers that drew their source from the sun.” She craned her neck to look up at the full moon shining brightly above. “But that wasn’t the only magic flower in Corona.”

Varian followed her gaze, and let out a sharp, short laugh, tinged with bitterness. “Are you saying there’s a magic moon flower somewhere? That _I_ somehow obtained these mystical moon powers? That I was born with them because my mother di-” He trailed off suddenly, nausea growing at the uncomfortable possibilities this new information brought.

“The golden flower of the sun saved the queen, but the moon flower killed your mother.” Lamia remarked tonelessly, as if she was merely commenting on the weather. “The sun is a benevolent spirit, healing those who ask, but the moon is a much harsher mistress.”

Varian ducked his head, not wanting to believe her merciless words, but unable to deny their validity. Tears prickled at his eyes, and he squeezed them tightly shut, unwilling to break before the hag.

The witch cocked her head, observing Varian’s shaken features like a cat regards a mouse. “Yet, somehow you survived, chosen by the moon to live, bestowed with extraordinary abilities beyond your wildest imagination. Abilities that were hidden from you by your father, in an attempt to make you fear your gift, when you did eventually discover it.”

“Gift?!” Varian exclaimed incredulously. “More like a curse, I don’t want this!” He gestured frantically to himself. “Look what happened!! I _killed_ Colvin!” A thought struck him and he stilled. “You _wanted_ me to kill him, didn’t you? Why else recite the incantation at that specific moment?” Anger built in his chest, a raging monster that needed to be unleashed before it tore him apart.

“What do you want from me? Did you honestly think I’d be _happy_ to discover that I’m actually a monster who kills people with moonbeams and glowing hair?!” His breathing was dangerously accelerated, and he started to hyperventilate, only vaguely aware of minor details like how his hair was beginning to glow again, and the satisfied smirk that crossed Lamia’s face. Varian grasped a low-hanging tree branch for support, but jerked his hand away when the branch crumbled to dust _-glowing dust-_ beneath his fingers.

“Wha-“

He stared in horror at his own betraying fingertips as a cold, cruel laugh rang out behind him. “You have no idea what you’ve been given, child, what I have given you in revealing your power.” She sneered. “You are capable of so much, yet you cry like an infant over the loss of an inconsequential life. Great power requires sacrifice to feed it.”

The witch paused, considering the agitated boy before her. “Why, you could even save that gloomy father of yours, and take vengeance on those who’ve wronged you. You should be thanking me!”

 _Dad…_ Varian gnawed his lip, the image of his entrapped father rising to his mind’s eye. Could these atrocious new powers really be Quirin’s salvation? The thought of Rapunzel prancing happily around in her golden castle filled his head, and he ground his teeth in thinly-concealed rage. He could make her pay, make her weep for what she’d done, make things right again…

Varian tasted bile as he realized where these dark thoughts were taking him, who they were turning him into. He shook his head violently, backing away from the woman with upraised hands, afraid to touch anything else least it too disintegrate.

“No...no! No, I won’t be a part of...of whatever this is.” He managed, pulling his gloves from his pocket and thrusting his hands into them, needing the reassuring feel of leather beneath his fingertips. He winced in the glare of the moonlight. _Since when had it seemed so bright?_

“You can’t hide from this,” Lamia insisted stonily. “Remember the inscription! _‘For the balance to be complete, one of two death must meet.’_ To sustain the powers of the moon, you must absorb another’s life force; you won’t be able to resist the call to strengthen your powers.”

“Yes, yes I will!” Varian retorted stubbornly with a false confidence he did not possess nor feel. “I won’t kill people just for the sake of killing them! I won’t!” His voice hitched on the last word, and he cursed himself for showing weakness. He was frightened at the old hag’s words, even more so because they sounded so... _appealing._ He recalled the rush he’d felt as Colvin had died, and his mind jumped to what he might accomplish with the power of the moon in his hands. He stiffened at his traitorous thought process and forced himself back to reality.

“Think of your father, then,” Lamia was saying contemptuously. “When all your options are spent, would you rather sacrifice one measly life for that of your beloved father’s, or be forced to watch him wither away in that amber, all while knowing that you had the power to release him?”

Varian was speechless. He didn’t think his vocal cords would work, even had he desired them to do so.

Lamia smiled grimly at his silence, and snapped her fingers. There was a swirl of dust and smoke, and when it settled, the old witch was nowhere to be found.

#### Waning

Varian wrestled with himself for several days, hating how he felt, yet unable to deny his inexplicable draw to his newfound power. He wanted to stay shut up in his lab forever, but when the moonbeams shone against his window, his hands would twitch and it’d be all he could do not to throw himself outside and bask in the moon’s callous rays. It was as if the moon physically poured strength and energy into him, vitalizing his spirit so he could return to his work with fresh zeal.

Which, unfortunately, he was no closer to finding a solution. He eyed the yellow amber distrustingly. What if he could save Quirin with just a touch of his fingers? Varian slowly pulled off his leather gloves and stared down at his slim hands in mild wonderment. He swallowed thickly, and almost shoved the gloves back on, when he looked back up into his father’s face.

“I made you a promise, Dad.” He whispered, making up his mind as he decidedly tossed the gloves to the side. “I won’t fail you again.”

Varian reached up and placed an ungloved hand on the yellow crystal, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

Nothing.

He suddenly recalled the song that Lamia had sung before his powers could be activated, and taking a deep breath, he began to sing.

 _“Flower, burn and shine_  
_make your power mine_  
_time resume its course_  
_let age and pain combine…”_

The words felt wrong on his tongue, yet somehow right at the same time. His hair started to glow, and he could feel the fire in his blood. Then, the amber slowly started to melt at his touch, running in rivulets around his boots and onto the floor. Varian gasped in delight and disbelief, focusing his energy and willing the crystal to disintegrate and free his father. Slowly, the large block of amber was reduced, and the layer separating Quirin from the outside gradually lessened.

 _Almost there, Dad._ Varian gave a victory whoop, looking joyfully into his father’s face...and then his grin went slack in horror.

Quirin’s hair had frosted over from black to white, and deep creases were etched into his features. His once hulking frame appeared to shrivel, mimicking that of an old man’s. Except it wasn’t a hoax, Quirin really had aged...because of him.

Varian pulled his hands off the crystal as if it were red-hot. “No, no, no, _no._ Dad, no!” He willed the power to stop, for it not to touch Quirin anymore, but still his father continued to age in the depths of the amber that entombed him.

“No!! Dad! _Dad!!”_ It was the nightmare of his dreams, unfolding before his disbelieving eyes. Varian frantically grabbed a potion bottle, started throwing chemicals on the crystal in reckless haste, vainly hoping that something, _anything,_ would stop the damage he’d started. His efforts were futile, it was like trying to stop time itself. Nothing could stem the stream of magic that stripped away muscle and skin as Quirin swiftly decomposed, still encased in the relentless amber.

Varian’s lower lip quivered, and he felt a scream start to form. It began in his toes, rising through his body until it burst from his throat with a guttural cry. The moon peering through the window ignited his hair, which flashed like blue fire. Blue electricity shot through the air, shattering several of the glass lamps and sending flasks and vials flying. The old wooden table cracked and split, launching splinters in a burst of fury. Chaos reigned for several minutes, the anguish and torment of the boy’s soul reflected in the damage around him.

At last Varian slumped to the floor, spent and exhausted. His eyes glistened as tears streamed uncontrollably down his cheeks.

_“I failed you.”_

#### New

He didn’t know how much time had passed, it might have been minutes, it could have been days. Time felt like such a subjective concept now. Rapid knocking on the front door drew him from his dismal thoughts, and he dragged himself to his feet to open it, half-expecting the visitor to be that cursed old witch.

Instead, two royal guards greeted him, complete with golden Corona crests, polished leather boots and trademarked grins. Varian’s features hardened. Exactly who he didn’t wish to see.

“Varian?” One of the guards questioned. He was taller and broader than the other, and sported a thick mustache. Varian recognized him as one of the guards who’d “escorted” him from the palace during the blizzard. He merely stared blankly at the pair, enjoying watching them both squirm under his steady glare.

The other younger guard cleared his throat, scratching a new beard and clearly uncomfortable with the awkwardness. “The Princess Rapunzel requested us to visit you and assure her you were alright. She sends her apologies that she is unable to visit in person at the time, but the kingdom bridge is still under repair, and the king did wish-”

“She wants to know if there’s anything she or the kingdom can do for you and we’re to bring your requests back to the Princess.” The mustached guard interrupted, clearly impatient to fulfill their task and return.

The younger guard consulted a note he’d brought with him. “She says here:

_Varian,_

_I am so, so sorry I couldn’t help you earlier. My dad says I can’t leave the palace until the bridge is rebuilt, but please let Stan and George know if there’s anything we can do until I can come to you in person._

_Your friend,_

_Rapunzel_

“Then she put a couple little hearts at the end.” The guard, George he assumed, finished as he rolled up the letter.

The two guards waited expectantly for a reply from the alchemist, who simply stood in stubborn silence. For Rapunzel to have to the gall to send her lackeys for help after such a betrayal, to offer assistance while she sat in her cushy kingdom, to call herself his _friend!_

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but Varian merely opened the door a little wider in response, ushering the guards in with a jerk of his head. “Follow me,” He managed stiffly, motioning them over to his work space.

“Can the Princess help me with _this?”_ He challenged brusquely, indicating the yellow amber that now held only bones, still positioned as if Quirin remained, their bleached ivory stretching forward in a silent plea to be set free.

The guards were shocked into paralysis. The mustached guard finally broke the stunned hush.

“I...I am very sorry…” He stammered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Listen, perhaps after we tell Princess Rap-”

Varian cut him off with a vicious glower, fed up to the last straw with these bumbling soldiers and the stuck-up royalty they served. They pretended to understand how he felt-they understood _nothing._  He would show them.

“No! You listen!” He commanded imperiously, sensing the moon’s rays on his back as they filtered through the window, and his boldness grew. His bare hand snapped out and caught Stan by the arm, and he watched in satisfaction as flesh became ash. It happened so quickly, the guard hadn’t even had time to scream.

“And that is my answer to the Royal Family!” He growled, shaking the shimmering ashes from his fingers as he savored the sweet lunar energy that surged through him. It was intoxicating, and he wondered how he’d survived fourteen years without it.

“What the..?! How could you- You just _murdered_ Stan!” The young guard had backed away from him, astonishment and fear written in every line of his body.

“I believe the Princess had requested an answer, now you have one.” Varian commented, almost nonchalantly, inhaling deeply in the wake of his power surge.

“The Royal Family will not be intimidated by a mere child!” The remaining guard choked out, attempting to put on a brave front as he stared, transfixed, at the pile of glowing dust on the floor.

 _Court is no place for a child._ Quirin's words flooded his brain, teasing at his carefully hidden insecurities, and he shoved them impatiently back into the dark recesses of his mind.

“A child?! Is that what they think of me?” Varian demanded, clenching a fist as he leered at the frightened guard who towered above him. He no longer felt in control of his own actions, it was as if another being pulled the puppet strings. “Well, we’ll see about that.”

Before he could lose his resolve, Varian ripped off his other glove and placed a hand on his chest. Closing his eyes, he began to sing.

_“Flower, burn and shine…”_

In the distance, he could hear the guard frantically banging on the locked door and rattling the handle in an attempt to escape. _Good luck with that._ He felt the moon’s power flowing through him, coursing into his veins, lengthening his bones, stretching his muscles...

_“...harm what has been healed, fates undo what’s thine…”_

He could sense the years slipping past, like the beads on the necklace he’d made for Cassandra oh-so-long-ago. One year gone by, two, three, four years…

_“...Let age and pain combine…”_

Five, six, seven years, eight….

He dimly heard screaming, and assumed it was the guard’s before realizing it was his own. His throat was raw, but still he persisted, despite the pain throbbing through his every nerve.

Nine.

_“...age...and pain…”_

Ten.

_“Combine.”_

Eleven.

With a mighty effort, Varian wrenched his hand away from his chest and collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. For a moment the only sounds were Varian’s uneven breaths, magnified by the cavernous room around him.

The guard was silent, frozen in terror next to the door, his wide eyes betraying what his tongue was doubtless too frightened to put into words. _You’re a monster._

Varian inspected himself, noting his longer legs and toned arms, raising a curious hand to his chin and feeling a slight roughness there. _Yes, yes I am._ The corners of his mouth quirked upwards in a dark smile as he rose off the floor with all the dignity of royalty. The innocent alchemist boy of fourteen was gone. In his place stood a man full grown of five-and-twenty years, his glowing blue hair reflecting off of the fire and suffering that burned in his eyes. Blue sparks arced from his exposed fingertips, as Varian drew himself up to his new height, relishing the experience.

“Tell Rapunzel, and all her little friends,” He addressed the guard calmly, his voice steady as death but wrapped in steel. “Tell her,” Varian paused to unlock the door with flick of his wrist, blazing eyes never leaving the guard’s horrified face.

_“I’m not a child anymore.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so I wrecked my emotions writing this. TToTT  
> To clarify Varian's powers, I envisioned that he draws strength from the moon, and when agitated/emotional, he can disintegrate stuff with a touch of his hands. The rapid-aging-Last Crusade-thing only works after singing the incantation, which is why Quirin died. 
> 
> Please don't hate me for making Varian dive off the deep end, I love my precious cinnamon roll, dark or not. I would really appreciate hearing your thoughts, I get nervous sometimes posting stuff (especially angst) about characters that are so close to everyone's hearts. 
> 
> Thanks for the love/kudos/reviews!


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